Fix Me?
by WriteToSaveYourself
Summary: Jesse just wants to be let in. Beca just wants some space. Neither wants it to break.
1. Tomorrow Will Be Kinder

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Perfect.**

**Inspired by Tomorrow Will Be Kinder by The Secret Sisters.**

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**Fix Me?**

**Chapter One - Tomorrow Will Be Kinder**

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She couldn't think. Or breathe. What had happened? She didn't fully understand. Her brain just shut down. It hasn't ever done that. Not with her other relationships. But then again, those were completely different situations, and she was always the one to break it off. Those didn't end abruptly, seemingly without reason, with them so. . . Disappointed. Yes, disappointed. How had this happened?

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"Bec, how come you never talk to me?" Jesse's voice pierced through her headphones, as it always did.

"What do you mean, dork, I always talk to you," she states, eyes still glued to her laptop's screen.

"Beca Mitchell, just look at me," His demand in his voice made her head whip around. Only now did she notice the seriousness, the anguish, the _hurt,_ on his face.

"Jesse, what. . ." She starts, confused.

"I'm tired of you not talking to me," he interrupts her. "You know everything there is to know about my family, where I grew up, all the things in my past that truly matter. And you know what I know about you? Nothing. Nothing that I didn't hear from someone else, or figured out myself." His face is now turned away from her, but she can still see his fists clench. Hear his breath hitch, his voice catch as he tries to hold in his emotions.

Realization dawns on her. He wants to _know_ her. Honestly and truly. He had waited this long, hoping she would come around. She had been working on it, really. It's just. . . Nothing seemed to come out when she wanted it to. Her childhood horrors just wouldn't get past her lips. She loved him, but that wouldn't travel to his ears, either.

"Jesse," she starts again, but this time the thing that makes her stop isn't his voice, but his head. The head that just keeps dejectedly shaking left and right. Back and forth. A metronome that Beca knows she pushed, but she can't stop.

She tries again. "What am I supposed to do?" Her voice is smaller than Jesse has ever heard it. "Tell you lies? I'm trying, Jesse. Honestly." Her voice is building, growing stronger. "Don't you think I want to be able to tell you all about me? About why I can't get anything personal to push past my lips? Or how I lo-" she chokes on her own words. His eyes widen. That's the closest she's ever gotten to saying it. But she just can't. So she backtracks. "How I look for you every time I enter a room?" Her voice is barely a whisper by the end.

Jesse's face softens for a fraction of a second before going cold. "You talk to Benji and Chloe. I know you do. They know certain things that trigger your little stints of not talking at all, and they try to help. But I can't do that because I don't know anything. I can't help and it hurts. And. . ." Beca waits for him to collect himself. "And I can't do this anymore. This should- no, has to. This has to end."

"Jesse," she pleads, "I'm sorry. I- I'll try harder. I won't tell them things until I can tell them to you." She begins to sob, something he's sure almost no one has heard come from Beca Mitchell before. It hurts him, but he has to stand his ground. "I'll work on it even harder than I have been. Just, please. Don't. . . Don't go."

"Then tell me, Beca!" He's angry now. She can just tell him stuff and then he won't have to go! It's not like its that hard to speak. "Tell me about your family. Tell me why you can't tell me. Tell me why you are as _messed up_ as you are now, and what I can do to fix you!" He screams before realizing what he said.

"Bec, I didn't mean-" he tries to say as her sobs break and her face scrunches in anger.

"So, I'm _messed up_, am I? You need to _fix me_? And of course you are going to be the knight in shining armor that saves me from myself. Just like in all the cookie-cutter movies you made me watch. But you know what?" He can see the fight leave her eyes. "You know what?" She repeats in a whisper. "Life's not like that. And if you aren't willing to let me work through my problems, give me the time I need without pushing me into becoming someone I'm not, then. . . End it, like you said. End us, if you want. Because I need time and support. Can you give me that?"

Silence. But that silence speaks volumes to Beca. It says, _No. I can't_. It repeats his words, and her heads twists them. _Messed up. Fix you. Let me fix you. You're too messed up. You can't be fixed._

Jesse grabs her face roughly with his hands and pulls her face to his. Despite his hands, the kiss is gentle. Beca's hands lift to tug at his hair and everything gets more desperate. Their hands, their lips, their thoughts. But then she hears it again. _Messed up. Fix you. Let me fix you. You're too messed up. You can't be fixed. _She pulls away. The words can't be taken back, the lust will only temporarily replace the hurt.

Beca gets up, grabs her laptop, and leaves. She doesn't look back. But she hopes. She hopes he will call her name. She hopes that he didn't mean it. Hopes that he isn't as angry as he seemed, that this doesn't last long. She hopes this is a dream.

She hopes tomorrow will be kinder.

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**AN: All right! AJ, aka thecurlingiron, had a birthday a looooong time ago. I was working on a one-shot that kind of got away from me (it now has 7,000+ words so I got a bit too into it, I'll post it sometime in the next month) for a belated birthday present, but seeing as I'm dragging that out a bit I worked this up in the last couple days. Think of it as a pre-belated birthday present- did that make any sense? Anyway, AJ, I explained in a PM to you where I've been, sorry again. Forgive me?**

**As far as SLYAN, the reconstruction is slow-going. I just started high school, am taking advanced classes, and am in three clubs. So just hang in there, and I'll try to give you little one-shots like this in between to tide you over.**

**Reviews aren't required, but are lovely to have!**

**Until next time!**

**-Aimee**

**Edit: Hey, someone asked how long this was going to be. If anyone is interested in a chapter or two more, let me know and I'll get to work!**


	2. Do(n't) Stand So Close To Me

**AN:** Inspired by, mainly, sad-song playlists on 8tracks. Yeah, I don't even know what I'm doing anymore.** _More info on other stories below._**

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**Fix Me?**

**Chapter Two - Do(n't) Stand So Close To Me**

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She sees him every day. How can she not? What with them both working at the station, having basically the same classes, and not to mention their friends' efforts at a reunion.

Ahh, yes, their friends. Everything had gotten so awkward, after the Big Fallout. That's what everyone was calling it now, that's its name.

The tension between her and Jesse had been so thick that even those not in the aca-universe knew about it. Hell, Beca has even started to notice those who aren't in the aca-universe trying to_ fix_ it. There's that word again: fix. She hates that word. It's that stupid word's fault.

No, Beca knows they didn't fall apart due to a word.

But that word has been popping into people's conversations more and more. Or maybe she just wasn't paying attention to it before.

Sitting on the grass in the shade of the huge tree, _their tree_, she sees him again. Leaves, although it's December now and the weather seems oddly tuned to her mood so they should be soggy and smush, crunch underneath his shoes. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his Treble jacket. He took it back from her just two weeks ago.

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**_Clonk, clonk, clonk!_**

_A knock on the door wakes the sleeping brunette with a jolt. Her head lifts up from the pillow, her neck straining to see over it and to the digital clock on her desk. The blue letters flash; it's 8:17. Beca flops over, squeezing her eyes shut and flexing her muscles before relaxing again and attempting to fall back into her dream. She doesn't remember much, except a fist raised high in the air, popcorn, and a mix CD._

**_Clonk, clonk, clonk_**!

_With a sigh, Beca throws the comforter off herself and grabs the jacket she sleeps on because it. Is. Freezing outside, and Stacie left the fucking window open when she snuck out through it last night, as not to be seen by the dorm advisor on her way off-campus to see Donald._

_Pulling off her shorts, she throws on the sweats she also keeps below her sheets before opening up the door._

_Jesse stands there, his hand poised to bang on the wood again. Beca's mouth falls into an 'o' as she lightly gasps._

_Jesse clears his throat. "Uhm, hey. . . Beca."_

_She lifts her hands, which the jacket sleeves pass, and pulls said jacket tighter around herself. "Uh, hey, Jesse. I haven't seen you since. . . I haven't seen you in a while." Both of them know what she was going to say, but what she can't. Her brow scrunches. "What are you doing here?" She doesn't dare hope it's for what she wants it to be._

_"I, uhm, came to pick up some stuff I've left here," his gaze averts from hers as his voice rings out into the cold room._

_A voice in the back of her mind lingers on that thought. It reminds her of the times that his voice use to radiate warmth throughout a cold room when talking to her, how it could take the chill out of her bones and make her fingertips and cheeks turn pink. That _stupid _voice that tells her to fight for him, to remember the way his eyes sparkled when he looked at her and the way she could feel her's twinkling back._

_Beca doesn't know how long she's been inside her own head before he pulls her back to the bitter present. "I see you still keep your clothes warm by sleeping on them," half of his mouth slightly lifts as he looks at the pile of hoodies and pants discarded into the corner of her bed, hidden under blankets._

_She mirrors his almost-smile. "It's too cold in the morning, it makes all my clothes cold unless they're under the comforter."_

_Beca realizes that he's still standing outside of her door, so she swing back and flourishes her hand half-heartedly while still looking like she means it, as only the half-asleep can achieve. He walks passed her and scans her desk, picking up a couple of CDs before moving on to the underside of her bed._

_She doesn't move from her place by the doorjamb. Beca just crosses the two sides of the too-big hoodie over each other and keeps them in place by crossing her arms, then leans against the wall._

_A pair of boxers, another CD, and three movies come out before he stands back up._

_"So," he starts, turning around. "Uh, thanks, Beca. Sorry to wake you up."_

_She lets a small smile break through. "No problem."_

_He walks past her and out the door into the hallway. Beca doesn't look at him, her eyes fixed on the space previously occupied._

_"Beca," his voice calls softly from behind her._

_A hand reaches up to her face and swipes before she turns around. "Yeah?"_

_Eyes cast toward the floor, his weight switching from foot to foot, he stutters. "That's, uh, mine." Her brow scrunches, not that he sees. Sensing her confusion in the following silence, he elaborates. "The jacket, I mean. It's my Trebles jacket." His eyes look up now, just catching her hand moving away from Beca's face again._

_Breath audibly catches in the petite girl's throat. "Oh," she finally lets out the breath. "Of course." Her shoulders softly roll back as she shrugs the jacket off and hands it to Jesse._

_He shifts some things to his other hand and grabs the jacket with his right. "Thanks," the whispered words barely reach her ears. "Goodbye, Beca."_

_She gently closes the door behind her and lets the tears fall, knowing that his goodbye wasn't just for this visit. The room is now not only cold but hollow; as her back slides down the door and her butt leeches the cold from the wooden floor, Beca can't help but wonder if her life had always been like the room is now, cold and hollow, and she just didn't realize it until the warmth she found was gone._

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Looking up from his shoes, Jesse looks around the courtyard. Their eyes catch each other. Beca looks away. She may see him every day, but that doesn't mean anything has gotten better. With close eyes she leans back against the rough tree trunk, wondering whether she'd be more hurt if he didn't come over or if he did.

He doesn't.

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**AN: **Okay, so updates on stories:

_Fix Me?_~ Chapter 3 has been started (Well, I say started. I wrote the ending. Oops?).

_SLYAN~ _Ugh. Don't expect much. The revising is going _so. Slow. _But It'll be up eventually (no guarantees it's before I'm 17 though- just kidding! Kind of. . . )!

_BION_~ Next chapter will be up in a bit if I could just figure out how I want to write the freaking thing! Like, really, I know exactly how I want to end it and what I want to happen but it's not coming out. Ugh.

So, yeah. Reviews aren't required, but appreciated. You know, the usual.

The rest if this AN has no relevance to you unless you want to know what I;ve been up to.

1. I'm attempting to watch all of Classic Doctor Who before the 50th Anniversary. Not working so well, because I completely didn't think of my short attention span.  
2. I started high school about 2 or 3 months ago. I'm in accelerated classes, and Physics sucks. I've used SparkNotes way too often to be considered a good student. But, hey, nothing new. I did that last year.  
3. I'm helping tech for the school play. I didn't make it in, but tech is still really cool. But I'm a bad techie- I missed a lot of rehearsals. I just get home and I nap and completely forget until it's too late.  
4. I went as Sam (Samantha) Winchester from Supernatural for Halloween, with a bottle of "Holy Water" and a sign on my back that said "Hi. I'm Sam. No, I don't know where my wifi comes from." My friend went as Dean. It was great. Lots of candy. Now a bit sick from candy.  
5. I've had Looking for Alaska, halfway read, sitting on my desk for over a month now because I'm just too lazy to pick it back up. It's a great book, I definitely love it, and I wouldn't put it down- until I had to. And then, because it was already down, and I had an essay to revise, it just never got picked back up. Oops. Sorry, John Green.  
6. My amazing friend AJ, aka thecurlingiron, made a Jeca fanmix for me, which I put on 8tracks because I was frustrated with the very low amount of Jeca fanmixes on there. My username is writetosaveyourself, and I love it because AJ's great.  
7. P.E. still sucks.

**Until next time! Happy belated Halloween!**

**-Aimee**


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